


A soft sound

by OfflineWolf



Category: Bran stark - Fandom, Brojen - Fandom, Game of Thrones (TV), Jojen reed - Fandom
Genre: Bran Stark - Freeform, Brojen, Game of Thrones - Freeform, Jojen reed - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7247221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfflineWolf/pseuds/OfflineWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you know what I mean now?<br/>I'm so fixated on the boy with the soft sound<br/>And hair all over the place"</p><p>"Settle down", The 1975</p>
            </blockquote>





	A soft sound

The sound of pages turning. 

The smell of fresh ink on paper.

The way the hard rough cover feels in his hands, the weight of all 500 pages, that tell the captivating story that the brown eyed boy was so engulfed in.

Watching him read was a beautiful scene. The way his brown fluffy strands were sliding into his eye sight, tickling the base of his nose, making him lifting his hand to brush them off. The way his warm focused eyes followed every line with precaution, the way his rosy tongue would poke out and run over his cherry lips, exposing them to the wind. He was too lost into the fascinating story to care. Sitting there, reading he looked different. He's usually worried, thinking about whatever might trouble him eyebrows furrowed and gazing into nothingness. He never talks about it, he brushes it off with an 'I'm fine' Or when he's having visions at night, waking up drenched in sweat and panting, a desperate figure, trying to go back, reaching back to the unconscious state, back in his mind where he's able to walk again, climb trees, shoot a bow, be with his beloved family. In the state of awakens, when realisation strikes him, you can see the disappointment, the dread smearing his angelic features. He's back into the cruel reality. He's sometimes crying, translucide droplets wetning his pale face, wiping them angrily, he doesn't want to feel weak. He barely smiles, barely talks. 

Truth be told, he is a sad, sad soul.

But not when he's reading.

It's just an old boring book, Jojen guesses. What could Bran find so exiting about it? It was one of Rickon's fairy tales book, that they found stashed at the bottom of the satchel that Hodor filled up for their hurried departure. Hodor probably didn't even notice that it was there, and he just left with it. Yesterday, when Osha was rumming through the old ripped satchel for some leftover bread, she found the book piled in the far bottom corner of it. She wanted to dispose of it, but for her misfortune, Bran caught her in the act and convinced her to keep the book even though 'it's a waste of space' and 'if it weren't for it we could have had more room for food and other necessities'.

Bran kept the book anyway, and did not let it down ever since. Even now, when Jojen was charged with protecting him, Rickon being asleep next to the fire, while Osha, Hodor and Meera were hunting for lunch. Bran was leaning on an old tree trunk, letting it support all his upper weight, while his legs were outstretched, limp on the ground, under a warm furry blanket. 

Jojen would had complained about the lack of attention and boredom if it weren't for the beautiful sight that stood before him. Watching the younger boy read was quite entertaining. He shifted his gaze to the cover of the book, where the title read The Black Rose. Probably just some story meant to quench restless children. Still, Bran was lost in the fantasy, numb to everything that surrounded him at the moment.

Jojen watched his expression change as he turned the page and read the first lines. He jumped in his seat as he heard soft chuckles coming from the brown haired boy. Looking at him his heart leapt, as he saw a smile tugging at his soft lips, eyes glimmering but still following the printed lines. Bran barely even smiles, let alone actual laughter. He couldn't help but smile back at the boy.

"What's so funny, Bran?" He asked looking him over.

Bran didn't even flinch. He kept on reading, ignoring the young adult completely. 

"Bran?" He tried again, but no luck. Bran did not change his previous state. He was too intrigued by the childish fairytales, and gave no attention to Jojen whatsoever, so the curly haired boy came up with another strategy. As much as he enjoyed watching Bran read, he craved the younger boy's attention for some reason.

He got up from his spot, next to the fire, and made his way to the boy with the hair all over the place.

Bran only seemed to acknowledge his presence when Jojen positioned himself onto Bran's lap, placing his head on his stomach, carefull not to hurt him. Bran watched him startled, not knowing what to do with his hands, so he kept one next to Jojen's head and used the other one to hold the book straight. As Jojen stopped moving, finding a comfortable position, Bran held his breath and waited for another sign of movement from the older boy, forgetting about the book for a few seconds. Jojen stood still, eyes closed, muscles relaxed. Bran mentally shrugged, deciding not to question his actions, returning his attention to the fairytale.

"Could you read it out loud?" Jojen's voice echoed through the silence, snapping Bran out of his pre-trance. He cleared his throat and nodded nervously.

"How about I start over then? It's quite interesting. And you said you like horror stories"

Jojen smiled. Bran remembered that minuscule detail.

The brown eyed boy shuffled to the beginning of the story, and started reading at a low volume, to prevent from waking Rickon. 

"Once upon a time there was a king who had three brave and handsome sons..."

Jojen found himself drifting away, in the rythm of Bran's voice, absorbing every word, every change of tone. Bran had diction and pronounced words well. He is still a lord after all. He's been educated, has lots of knowledge, it could be read on his face. Jojen was mesmerised by him from the moment he first saw him in his vision. He has something special about his presence, that makes Jojen's insides flutter. 

He noticed the younger boy's free hand laying on the grass, limp, delicate, inviting. He allowed himself to reach just a little farther and catch it in his own.

Bran let out a soft sound, the story interrupted, words forgotten. His hand was cold, while Jojen's was warm, together forming the perfect temperature. The soft smaller hand twitched at the contact, but Bran didn't remove it from Jojen's soft grasp. The older boy took the freedom to intertwine their figers, bringing the hands closer, squeezing the smaller tremouring hand affectionately. 

It felt like a dream.

Bran kept quiet, mouth ajar, mind emptied of the words he wanted to speak. Jojen still held his hand, not letting go, his butterflies started flying like crazy, absurdly feeling like he's floating. 

"Don't stop" 

Jojen's voice brought Bran to reality once more. He couldn't help but smile, staring at his orange haired friend. He continued the fairytale, felling fuzzy from the heat radiating from their conjoined hands.

"-the youngest kept the Rose forever, for it symbolise the greatest gift one can receive from another: love."


End file.
